


Draco Malfoy and the Duality of Birthdays

by triggerlil



Series: Tumblr Prompts [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Auror Harry Potter, Birthday, Boyfriends, Dinner, Dinner Date, Domestic Boyfriends, Established Relationship, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Draco Malfoy, Insecurity, M/M, POV Draco Malfoy, Plotting Harry Potter, Surprise Ending, Surprises, Suspicions, suspicious Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:21:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22930912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triggerlil/pseuds/triggerlil
Summary: Draco Malfoy doesn't like birthdays anymore, especially his own. Harry Potter loves birthdays, especially Draco's.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: Tumblr Prompts [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1660129
Comments: 19
Kudos: 274





	Draco Malfoy and the Duality of Birthdays

Draco was worried, really worried. The more time went on, the more anxious he got; his jaw was starting to ache from how tense he was. Harry had been sneaking around him for the past month; shoving letters into his desk abruptly when Draco walked into the room, going out at odd hours of the day, and coming home with the smell of something unusual on his clothes. Draco had given up asking what was going on because it merely made Harry more tight-lipped and secretive.

Everything was still fine in the bedroom and their love life at large—Harry still made Draco a cup of tea every morning, two sugars and a bit of milk, just the way he liked it—and the sex remained fantastic, as far as Draco was concerned. Just a few nights ago they had done a bit of naughty maid and master of the house roleplay, Draco being the one dressed up in a frilly maid’s outfit of course. But he found that he was less inclined to do these things when Harry was acting so suspicious. There had been a few moments where Harry had begun kissing down his arm, trailing his fingers over Draco’s chest, and Draco had simply rolled over, refusing to acknowledge the feelings that sprung up in his stomach in favour of the cold shoulder and a dash of pettiness.

Pansy had been trying to persuade him to tie Harry up and just slap it out of him, but if Harry wasn’t going to tell him, he wasn’t going to force it. They had worked so hard to get to this point in their relationship, the mutual trust and love, that he didn’t want to break it all down by revealing his cards. That he was suspicious, that he was aching. If it kept going on too long, he’d say something. He would.

That afternoon, a Friday, Draco was sitting in the living room on his favourite armchair, when Harry came fumbling out of the fireplace.

“Hello love,” Harry said, kissing Draco on the forehead. He put his briefcase down and shirked off his coat, yawning.

“Long day at work?” Draco asked, putting his book aside.

“Oh, er—yeah. Lots of stuff.”

“What did you do?”

“Uhm, work. I did work, I mean I worked on a case.”

“Always so eloquent, Auror Potter,” Draco said, hiding his sinking feeling behind a smirk.

“Okay birthday boy, don’t get smart with me.”

Draco winced. It wasn’t just any Friday, it was his twenty-third birthday. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it, either. How could he continue to celebrate his birthdays, eventually noticing new lines and grey hairs, while people like Fred or Crabbe never would?It was a strange feeling, to celebrate the life ahead with so much death behind you. He always spent the early hours of his birthday mourning, but Harry understood. He would bring tea to their room, and they would sit together silently. It usually meant that by the end of the day, he was that much more thankful for everything. To have someone like Harry, who understood these things, and who was still so good and kind. But it felt bittersweet now, with the way Harry was stumbling over his words like he had something to hide.

“You better look alive for our date tonight,” Draco quipped.

“Of course,” Harry said, “I’ve got the perfect thing planned.”

Draco was worried it would not be perfect. He had heard Harry conspiring over the phone with Pansy a few days ago, and he had the sinking feeling that there would be a surprise party in his future. He never liked seeing anyone but Harry on his birthday, and he had thought Harry had known that. He was fine with doing parties a few days later, or on the weekends, but the day of? Well, that was different. The fact that it was a Friday this year, the pinnacle day of the week for being out on the town, meant nothing to Draco. This was his day and his alone. Well, besides the millions of other people born on this day. That was beside the point.

Harry glanced at his watch, mussing with his hair. “We should probably get ready, actually.”

“How am I supposed to plan an outfit when I don’t know where we’re going?”

“It’s posh,” Harry supplied, grinning. “But wear comfortable shoes.”

Draco grimaced. Great, there would probably be dancing. 

An hour or so later, he was wearing a dark green, silk keyhole top, fitted at the waist and neck, with billowing bishops sleeves. When he came out of their room to Harry waiting in the front foyer, he revelled in the flush that steadily crept up Harry’s neck.

“Like what you see?”

Harry just nodded, apparently too slack-jawed to respond, and swept Draco into his arms.

“You look gorgeous.”

It was true, Draco had combed his hair over to create an effortlessly sweeping look and was wearing high waisted black jeans. When Harry’s lips found his, it was as if all his earlier doubts melted, the way Harry’s tongue teased open his mouth, tasting of sweetness, was enough to empty him of anything but a want for more.

Harry himself had made an effort to be more than presentable. He was wearing fitted grey slacks, a dark green button-up, and a leather jacket that Draco recognized as being Sirius’ thrown over the top.

“I wish I could see you out of that lovely shirt,” Harry laughed, “but unfortunately we have a reservation to keep.”

Draco nodded, and Harry took his arm. They twisted into the air, apparating with a crack.

They landed behind a restaurant. One that Draco had never been to before. They walked into the building and were immediately enveloped in atmosphere—the interior was made up of deep reds and browns, gold accents and black, a freestyle jazz band played in one corner, and glasses clinked over plates of delectable smelling cuisine.

“It’s French,” Harry said sheepishly. “And muggle.”

A waiter led them to a reserved table for two in a secluded corner.

“It’s perfect,” Draco said. “Now we’re just a normal, unassuming, but very attractive, homosexual couple.”

Harry laughed, picking up a menu, as the saxophone took over the performance, riffing out a solo.

“I have to admit Harry, I was really worried. I thought you were planning a surprise party.”

Now Harry laughed awkwardly, pulling at the collar of his shirt. “Oh, uh. No, I know you don’t like spending your birthday with other people.”

“Yes, which is why I was so confused when I heard you talking to Pansy.”

“Oh, right.”

Draco tapped his fingers on the side of his water glass. “Why were you talking to Pansy?”

“I—Uhm, needed…” he pushed his glasses further up his nose, “I needed her help with something.”

“What was it?”

“Do you really need to ask so many questions?” Harry asked, his fluster turning into annoyance.

“I just don’t understand why you’re keeping things from me.”

Harry just shrugged, his jaw clenched, and when the waiter returned to take their orders, they smiled thinly. Draco ordered the wine, like he always did, since Harry seemed to know nothing about proper pairings, and they sat there, waiting.

Eventually, Harry reached forward, placing his hand on top of Draco’s.

“I promise it’s nothing, Draco. I just want this night to go well.”

Draco nodded, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something wrong. The idea that Harry knew him so little as to plan a party made him annoyed, anxious even, but that wasn’t what really bothered him. Why did Harry return home smelling like perfume, why did he want to hide things from Draco? Was he misinterpreting the awkwardness, was Draco the one that was cold? All the signs were pointing towards one conclusion, and he knew it was wrong to keep doubting Harry, but once the idea had settled, he couldn’t seem to shake it. 

“Alright, let’s just forget about it.” 

The dinner passed in obscurity. They ate in relative silence, and when they did talk, although the conversation flowed freely, it wasn’t as playful as normal. Draco kept feeling as if he was teetering on the edge of something terrible, as if Harry would speak something into existence that could never be taken back.

I think we need a break.

“What?” Draco asked, pulling himself out of his thoughts.

“I asked if we wanted dessert?”

“Oh Harry, you know I can’t resist.”

“I was thinking we could get it to go, there’s one last place I have in mind.”

That was it, this was the party.

The waiter brought them two little white boxes, nicely wrapped, and it hurt Draco to see them like that. His delicious fudge brownie not being honoured on a nice plate, drizzled with chocolate, adorned with strawberry. It was more than he could bear.

He stood up abruptly as Harry collected the bill, and Harry hurried after him, sighing.

“I’m sorry Draco, I—”

“It’s alright.”

“It’s not, I wanted this to go smoother.”

“It’s fine. Let’s just go to this… thing.”

Harry took his hand, and then they were spinning, blue energy crackling, and their feet touching down on soft grass.

Blackness stretched out above them, an expanse of darkness with a scattering of stars, pricks of light in the night sky. Draco looked up at the expanse, felt small in the eye of the world, vertigo sending his head spinning. All the terrible expectations he had floated nebulously towards the sky, and he revelled in it, the sheer weightlessness of the world at night.

When he finally came back down to earth, he looked around. They were standing in a large garden, white rose bushes trailing the sides of the path on one side, what looked like lavender on the other. Draco spun around to face Harry, whose cheeks were flushed with happiness.

“Where are we?”

“The Edward’s Garden, I thought we could eat dessert under the stars.”

“It’s lovely Harry.”

He reached out and took his hand, and they walked towards a bench surrounded by flowers and fairy lights, the soft glow illuminating their faces and the fountain behind them.

“Is this what you were talking to Pansy about?”

“This and some other things. I wanted this to be a perfect day, Draco, but I feel like I’m failing,” Harry said, putting his desert down on the bench as Draco did the same. Harry cupped Draco’s face, “I know you’ve been anxious about what I’m doing lately, but it’s all been for you.”

Suddenly Draco was holding his breath and Harry was getting down on one knee; the soft white light caressed his face, glinting off his glasses, revealing those bright green eyes. It had been so long since Draco had looked in those eyes, truly looked, and they were brimming with hope and courage.

Harry took a tiny black box out of his pocket and snapped it open. Draco’s heart crawled up into his throat.

“Draco, I’m—er—sorry for the past few months, I wanted this ring and proposal to be perfect. Even if it’s not, I can’t wait any longer, I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I’m dying to know if you want to spend your life with me, too?” 

Harry finished awkwardly, his cheeks burning red, and looked scared for his life. Draco could do nothing but fall to his knees too, come face to face with the man who meant so much to him. This man, his childhood enemy, his adulthood best friend. This man who had seen him through the worst nightmares, the worst trauma, who knew him better than Pansy fucking Parkinson and Blaise Zabini combined.

Harry snapped the ring shut, and scrambled forward on his knees, dirt streaking his lovely pants.

“Draco what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Because Draco was crying, big fat ugly tears. Harry wiped them away, the feeling of his thumb on Draco’s cheek familiar and warm.

“I thought—” he said, the words coming out in hiccoughs, “I thought you were going to break up with me, I thought you didn’t love me anymore.”

“You—What?” 

Draco realized now how it sounded, how his anxiety had taken Harry’s actions and twisted them into something sick and monstrous. 

“I don’t know,” Draco sobbed, “you were being so bloody weird, how was I supposed to know it was all for a ring?”

“Oh, Draco,” Harry said, bringing him into his arms. “I’m so sorry.”

Draco collapsed into Harry, all the tension he had been holding within himself for the past month slowly ebbing away, the relief and guilt palpable. 

“It’s my—my fault,” he croaked, “I should have trusted you.”

“No, Draco, it’s my fault. I should have been more careful, I know how anxious you can be, I should have thought. I’m sorry.”

Draco laughed, a physical manifestation of the feelings bubbling through him. He buried his still tear-streaked face into Harry’s shirt, inhaling his calming musk and the scent of leather. 

“Where’s that ring?” He asked finally, sniffling, and Harry pulled it out of his pocket, relief washing over his face. It was beautiful, a polished alexandrite entwined in silver, tasteful yet delicate. Harry slipped it onto Draco’s trembling finger, admiring how the lavender and blue stone sparkled against his pale skin.

“My birthstone,” Draco breathed, and he realized that they were surrounded by roses, the flower of June.

Harry grasped his hands, the lightning bugs that had entered the garden giving the illusion of a halo. “Because I’m so fucking happy you were born, and that we met, and every birthday I want to cherish the fact that you came into this world and found me.”

“I love you,” Draco said, his voice cracking. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.”

The stars above flickered in and out, and they sat together in the dirt, hands clasped, surrounded by roses and lightning bugs.

Today had not gone in any way how Draco had suspected, and he wasn’t mad about that at all. It was probably time to live for his future, instead of the past, revel in the love that Harry was willing to give, and love him in return. He was one year older, and that was something to be proud of, surely. Hopefully, he would have many more years to come, with one particular man by his side, and that was enough for him.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally based off of [a tumblr prompt](https://triggerlil.tumblr.com/post/611160185328795648). If you liked it please consider leaving a comment/kudos or like/reblog the original post, it would mean a lot to me! And if you want me to write some drarry fic for a prompt you have in mind, shoot me an [ask on tumblr!](https://triggerlil.tumblr.com/ask)


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